


I'll Keep You a Daydream Away

by punklexa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punklexa/pseuds/punklexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean looks at the colorful poster taped to his locker and scowls.<br/>Lawrence High School goes all-out for Valentine's Day; starting a few weeks prior, the cheerleaders sell Candy Grams for a dollar, advertising them on the morning announcements. Those are delivered on the big day itself, on which the halls are coated in sickeningly sweet pink and red decorations, like the disgusting abomination covering Dean's locker. And that's just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Keep You a Daydream Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeanIsMyPizzaman](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DeanIsMyPizzaman).



> Title from the All Time Low song "A Daydream Away" :)

Dean looks at the colorful poster taped to his locker and scowls.

Lawrence High School goes all-out for Valentine's Day; starting a few weeks prior, the cheerleaders sell Candy Grams for a dollar, advertising them on the morning announcements. Those are delivered on the big day itself, on which the halls are coated in sickeningly sweet pink and red decorations, like the disgusting abomination covering Dean's locker. And that's just the beginning. There are all the couples presenting sweets and flowers to each other, and, worst of all, the event the paper was advertising, the -

“So,” Charlie says, “Valentine's Dance. Can I get your advice?”

“Sure, Charlie.” Dean is standing at his locker, rifling through the stacks of books and loose, crumpled papers. “I just need to find my – here it is! So, what do you need my sage wisdom for?”

“Well, now that I've finally got a girlfriend to ask, I want to ask her to the dance. And I need to make it impossible to resist.”

“Dorothy?”

“Yep. And before you say anything,” she warns, seeing Dean beginning to speak, “I am _not_ making it _Wizard of Oz_ -themed.”

“I don't have a plan B. That was my best idea,” Dean says. “Why don't you find out about something she likes and theme it about that? Like, if she likes _Star Trek_ , dress as Spock or something.”

Charlie laughs. “I'll think about that. Anyway, are you going to ask someone?”

“Maybe,” Dean says with a noncommittal gesture.

Cas appears then, holding a binder and a textbook over his chest, backpack slung over his shoulders. “Hello, Dean, Charlie. What are you talking about?”

“How Charlie's gonna get Dorothy to go to the dance with her. With my help, of course. What about you? You gonna ask anyone?”

“I don't think so,” Cas says, and he reaches with one hand to adjust his tie (the dork is the only person Dean knows who actually dresses up to go to school), “The person I'm interested in doesn't feel the same. And besides, I'm planning on staying home. Dances aren't really.. my 'thing.'”

“You can't be so sure they don't like you, man. They could totally love you.”

Cas scoffs. “I doubt that.”

“You should still come to the dance,” Charlie interjects. “It won't be any fun without you. Plus, I heard they'd have some incredible snacks.”

Before Cas has a chance to reply, the bell rings.

“Well, that's my cue. See ya at lunch, bitches,” Charlie says, merging with the rest of the rapidly-moving crowd.

“I don't see why Charlie feels the need to use gendered slurs as a form of greeting,” Cas mumbles. He's glancing down at his feet, his cheeks tinged a faint pink.

Dean is aware immediately of how close he and Cas are – somehow, Dean has inched forward, or maybe Cas has- and their faces are just a few inches apart. He can see the details of Cas' eyes, and the cute little crinkles around them, and the peach fuzz he's growing. His own face heating, Dean quickly pulls back.

“It's just her _thing_ , Cas. Like dances aren't for you.” Dean can't stop himself from grinning, seeing Cas laugh at the admittedly lame joke. “I agree with Charlie, you know. You should come.”

“I don't know, I – I wouldn't want to intrude on your time with – your date.”

“You won't be intruding, Cas, you're my best friend. It'll be fun.”

“If you say so,” Cas says, and this time, there's a hint of excitement in his words.

 

“Thinkin' of someone special, Cas?”

Dean's friend jumps, turning from the poster he was reading. (The things are spreading like wildfire – Dean's counted at least twelve so far in the day, and February has only just started.) It's a heart, cut out of pink paper, with the words _Candy Grams_ printed in neat, bubbly marker.

“Oh. No. Just reading.”

“Only two weeks 'til the big day,” Dean adds. “I can't wait for all this to be over.”

“Why?”

“It's annoying. I mean, this school makes a bigger deal out of Valentine's Day that it does for – I don't know, actual important holidays. Like National Pie Day. Or Pie Month. All the pink and flowers are really aggravating for us single people.”

“I don't think it's that bad.” Cas glances at the poster again, and Dean follows his gaze – _Something sweet for your sweetheart,_ it reads. _Pick out their favorite candy and send them a sweet message in 5_ _th_ _period – only $1!_ “It's ... sweet, I suppose. Romantic. People showing love for each other.”

“If you insist.” Dean thinks for a moment. “Hey, uh, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“That person you were talking about, the one you're interested in – who is it?” Dean hopes the question sounds like friendly curiosity – and that's how he justifies it to himself. It's just natural to want to know who his friends are crushing on. Especially with how secretive Cas is being about this.

Cas blinks, mouth parting slightly in surprise.  _Don't look at his lips, Dean._ Then he seems to recover. “You don't know them.”

Dean knew it. But of course he'd wanted to know anyway. He refuses to acknowledge the bitter, dejected feeling in his gut. “Doesn't matter,” he says, smiling. “What're they like? Must be pretty nerdy, to have you into them.”

“They are. And very funny.” Cas is grinning. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, like a lovestruck damsel straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel. Or one of those old European love stories Sam likes so much.

“You should send them one of these,” Dean points at the poster. “I think you can do it anonymously, if you'd like that better.”

Cas nods slowly. “I'll think about it.”

 

Dean can ignore it, most days – the way he feels about Cas. And the brief, daydreamy thoughts of anything ever happening between them. After all, doing the same thing for years only makes it easier.

They've been friends since elementary, and essentially the entire time, Dean has made sure to keep this  _feeling_ under wraps. He thought at first it would go away, even hoped it wold – it was incessant, embarrassing, Ridiculous that someone, let alone an awkward, nerdy guy with an obsession with bees, could affect him so much.

He remembers, fleetingly, his fifth-grade celebration of Valentine's Day.

The teacher, Ms. Milton, told every kid to bring enough valentines for all their classmates, so no one felt left out. The day before, he went to the store with Dad and Sammy, where he picked out a pack of twenty-four tiny cards, each with a different insect-themed pun. He saved the bee one for Cas.

But even that didn't feel like enough, so Dean stayed up with some paper and markers he smuggled from Sam's room. With as much passion as an eleven-year-old can muster, he cut it into a heart, and wrote a message inside. He paused at the end, wondering whether to sign it, and at once realized the futility of the card. Cas might read this as just a friendly thing – the message wasn't exactly a sappy Hallmark card – and that would be bad enough. But to realize the intent, and reject him – Dean didn't think he could bear that.

He took one last look card, then crumpled it and threw it into the trash can.

The next day, each student placed a decorated box, with a slot carefully cut out, on their desk. Dean glanced furtively around as he placed Cas' bee card into his box, but no one seemed to notice him.

A few minutes later, when they were all seated and going through their hoards of cards and occassional candy, Dean saw Cas look at him and smile, mouthing, “Thank you.”

 

Dean's thoughts are interrupted as Charlie approaches.

“Hey!” she says. “I figured out the perfect way to ask Dorothy to the dance. So, you know, she loves Shakespeare and literature and all that. And we're reading  _Twelfth Night_ right now – it gave me an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I could memorize one of Cesario – well, Viola's – speeches to Olivia. And then ask.”

Dean grins. “That's perfect! She'll love it.”

“I hope so. It might be a little over-the-top for just this little dance, but she deserves it.”

 

When Dean sees them in the hallway a few days later, Dorothy's face bright red but jubilant as she places a kiss on Charlie's forehead, he knows it worked.  _Nerds_ , he thinks as he walks past, smiling.

 

Finally, Valentine's Day arrives.

Apparently, some students have decorated overnight, because the entire school is prepped for the occasion. In parts of the hallway, thin pink papers cover the lights, leaving a rosy tint for the hall below. There are red and pink streamers, and even heart balloons in a few places. There's a table near the entrance where a few cheerleaders – Jo, Anna, and Ruby – are selling Candy Grams.

Dean walks directly to Cas as soon as he sees him.

“Hey, Ca-” someone walking by with a bouquet of flowers accidentally hits Dean's face with them - “Jesus Christ! It's like Cupid threw up in here.”

Cas' smile  _almost_ makes Dean forgive the assaulting flower-holder. “Yeah. Or just your face.”

“What - “ Cas reaches up to Dean's face, hand brushing against something on Dean's cheek, and he holds the offending petal in front of him. Then he says something Dean doesn't catch, because his mind is still short-circuiting over Cas' hand on his cheek.

“Anyway, uh,” Cas says, dropping the petal unceremoniously on the floor, “I should be getting to class. I have a test and I need a few more minutes to study.”

“Oh. Alright. Good luck, then.”

 

When Dean arrives at lunch, Cas' absence is glaring. He tries not to worry, but all he can thin of while Charlie and Chuck are engaged in some sort of debate about what they're reading in English is whether Cas is alright. Then, thinking about Cas' behavior this morning – leaving so abruptly – Dean hopes the reason that Cas is gone isn't because Dean has upset him.

 

In fifth period, Spanish, there's a knock on the door.

Mr. Henriksen stops talking when the door opens. Ruby enters, a paper bag labeled “5 th – Henriksen” in hand.

“Hey, everyone, I've got some Candy Grams to deliver. I'd really appreciate it if you'd come and get them when I call your names.”

She takes the first object out of the bag and reads, “Becky Rosen.” Then, “Meg Masters. Benny Lafitte.”

Chatter fills the room as she hands out the gifts – friends eagerly asking, “Who's it from? What does it say?” And, most importantly, “Can I have some of that candy?”

So it's because of the noise that, at first, he thinks he misheard Ruby. But she repeats herself, her tone slightly more aggravated, and it's unmistakable: “Dean Winchester.”

He stands and collects the card, which has a piece of chocolate attached. (Whoever this is from, they certainly know the way to Dean's heart. Still, it'll never be as good as pie.)

He gets a better chance to look at the Gram after he sits back down and Ruby leaves. It's pink, just like everything else this time of year, and says merely, in a neat, feminine font that Dean doesn't recognize:

_To: Dean Winchester_

_From: Anonymous_

_Meet me in the library right after school. I want to tell you something._

_(P.S. I know this isn't as good as pie – they told me I couldn't do that. We might be able to make up for that later.)_

 

Dean stands in the doorway, confusing Candy Gram in hand.

A few students are here already, checking out books for the weekend or hanging around, talking with friends. No one notices him.

Stepping into the library, Dean reads over the message again. He doesn't have a clue who it's from – the writing is unfamiliar, but this person's words lead him to think that whoever it is must know him. He frowns, furrowing his brow at the bright paper.

_This “anonymous” better get here soon,_ Dean thinks. Sam's waiting for him, he's exhausted from a day of strenuous work, and an after-school nap is sounding really good right now.

Someone walks by him; he turns his head just enough to see Cas entering the library. Good. He'll have some company waiting for this mystery person.

“Afternoon,” he says, holding up the note. “Someone wanted me to 'meet them right after school' here. They promised pie.”  
“That's -”

“Anyway. You here to check out a book or anything? I'll walk with you.”

Cas rubs his hand on his neck. “Uh,” he mutters. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

Cas frowns, wrings his hands together, shuffles on his feet. “I mean, I – I'm the one who asked you here, Dean.”

Dean has a million questions. Is this a dream? Why doesn't the handwriting match? Is this some kind of prank? What does Cas mean by this? But all he manages to squeak out is an incredulous,  _“What?”_

His friend takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I like you, Dean. A lot. And I thought this would be a good a time as any – I mean, Charlie thought it was a good idea -”

Dean has gone completely still. He's tempted to pinch himself to see if this is real. His heartbeat is skyrocketing and he can't form words to respond.

“And.. uh, I uess I was wrong. I'm going to leave, I'm so sorry for bothering you, it's fine if you don't want to be friends, I know this is awkward -” He turns to leave, but Dean overcomes his paralysis enough to grab Cas' shoulder.

“Don't go. I – I feel the same.”

Cas gapes.

“Since frickin'  _grade school,_ man, and I'd have never thought – Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“I -” Dean interrupts him, leaning forward and planting a gentle kiss on Cas' lips. He feels the scrape of Cas' short facial hair, the roughness of his chapped lips, but most of all he just feels  _ relief _ . His body relaxes and Cas leans into the kiss.

Someone cheers from one of the study tables. Then claps. Then everyone in the room is clapping.

Dean leans back, taking a moment to admire Cas' deeply flushed cheeks.

“So,” Cas says into the silence after the applause, ”Do you want to come over and take me up on that pie?”

Dean beams. “Only if you agree to watch  _Star Trek_ with me after.”

“Of course. There's nothing more romantic than  _Star Trek._ ”

“Nothing at all.”

Dean takes his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Clearing my schedule for tonight.” Quickly, Dean types out a text to Charlie and hits Send.

_won't be able to make it to the dance tonight. have fun_

He gets a reply instantly.

_I knew it :) Have fun yourself._

 


End file.
